


The Void Walker

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, M/M, Mystery, Slow Burn, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Piero once called him the Void walker, a notion ever so romantic, but more like a death penalty from the mouth of the Abbey.A story about hunting for treasures that no human being must ever find. Corvo Attano, the son of a rich tradesman, and his friend, the infamous natural philosopher Piero Joplin, set out to find the entrance to the Void. But does the Void or its representative want to be found?





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea for quite a while before I even joined Dishonored fandom, but it seems Corvosider claimed the idea entirely. 
> 
> There is slight divergence to canon, both to characters and the lore, but I tried to keep the changes to mininum. Many things will transpire and I hope you will enjoy reading this story!  
> Tags will be edited as I post.
> 
>  
> 
> [Drop by my tumblr, I also take small prompts :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/ask)

“Karnaca, the jewel of the Isle, the queen of mighty winds that spur energy into motion. The birthplace of geniuses and the blossoming center of science…”

Yelling from atop a fish crate was a man in a bright white-and-red suit, his voice loud, low and clear. The shore speaker’s words echoed across the docks and mixed with the sounds of street musician’s instruments. How articulate he was, aiming at people who were stepping down from the newly arrived ship. Large letters in a blackened bronze colour on its side read ‘JESSAMINE KALDWIN’. Carrying boxes and trunks, holding children by their small hands and smiling happily at each other, people gathered to listen to the man. He welcomed them as they gawked in awe, soaking in the very beauty of Karnaca’s port, musician’s enthralling tunes and the man’s flourished speeches. 

From a balcony nearby, overlooking the endless ocean, Corvo Attano watched the dusk set its burning glory into the ocean. His gaze lingered on the travelers for a moment before moving back to watch a whale pass through waters at the distant horizon. It was one thing to enjoy about Karnaca, the magnificent views it offered alongside prosperity and possibilities. Corvo himself had a taste of each, born to a rich noble tradesman and spoilt with endless paths that were laid open before him. Though the choice seemed boundless, he never truly had a chance to make one. The Mark on his left hand that Corvo looked at briefly was its one and only confirmation.

A sudden loud sound of system failure hollered across the house, winding down and silencing the buzz of machinery, and Corvo’s room drowned in darkness. He shook his head and went back inside.

“Corvo, please, come downstairs quickly,” a voice came from below, measured and somewhat detached. Corvo didn’t reply but hummed in confirmation to himself. He followed the familiar trodden path to the storage where the tank reserves were kept for an occasion such as this and descended the staircase with a tank of whale oil on his shoulder.

The possible culprit of the power outage, Piero Joplin, the great natural philosopher of this age, was standing at his desk dressed in nothing but a set of flannel pajamas, barely giving his friend any notice. Corvo pushed the tank into a magnetic holder and with a soft whirring noise the light system returned to life. Lanterns hanging over the room lit up a messy study, piled with maps, books, scrolls and crates of cider. Corvo pulled one of the bottles out and popped off its cork.

“What happened this time?” Corvo asked, leaning on Piero’s desk and giving the cider a taste. It poured coldly into his mouth, a spicy tang of apples, a delight to miss from his life in Dunwall.

The natural philosopher hummed something without looking up from a map he was studying.

“Nevermind that. Look here, Corvo. I think I have it. No, I am actually quite certain that I have it.”

The philosopher grabbed Corvo by his shoulder for attention (Corvo barely managed not to spill the cider all around the desk) and pushed a finger in a spot on the map. There, marked with a small black dot, hidden within plains and rocks next to a small town, was something Piero had been searching for almost his entire life. Corvo leaned over the map, placing his bottle to the side.

“I have it!” His voice was shaking on the brink of hysterical joy, high-pitched and breaking. When he looked up at Corvo, his eyes hidden behind spectacles and a curtain of feverish fog, he seemed victorious. The man’s hands gripped on Corvo’s shoulders and he shook him a little. “At long last. Everything seems to be in place, all by the prophecy and historical clues. There can be no mistake. We found the entrance to the Void.”

Piero made a loud delightful outcry and took Corvo’s marked hand in his with reverence, rubbed at the black ink which spread in a pattern of the symbol. Corvo disliked it when Piero considered him a rare specimen rather a close friend, but he forgave him still. It came with years of friendship and knowing each other’s motives.

With another happy yell, Piero rushed into Corvo’s arms for a hug. Corvo patted him with his marked hand on the back reassuringly, secretly wondering what this journey meant for  _ him _ .

***

That night he rolled in bed, from left to right, seeking the sleep that so skillfully evaded him. Pictures of the upcoming journey haunted his mind. The horrors of the dark, the solitude amidst vast mysteries. Would they go mad or would they walk out in a place where no one was meant to be? Where  _ Piero _ was not meant to be.

But Corvo was no stranger to walking the planes of the unknown and impossible.

Piero once called him the Void walker, a notion ever so romantic, but more like a death penalty from the mouth of the Abbey. Corvo feared that one day, should the Overseers get wind of his activities, he would hear himself titled as such, ‘ _ heretic _ ’, and then his head would roll, chopped off for fallacy. For many years now, ever since he got the Mark, he had been a frequent visitor to the dark and windy planes of the Void. 

Though it was often described in books and scripts about the distant space of darkness, winds and eternal cold, Corvo doubted many, if any but him, truly stepped the rocky slopes of that place. It was rumoured to be inhabited by a deity which watched the world from afar but never showed its face to anyone. Prophets said it was so terrible to look at that people went mad with horror. Corvo thought the deity simply had no business with men of the world and agreed with it wholeheartedly.

But what did the Void, the Mark and all the magical power had to do with him, he wondered?

He was young. Barely 15 years old and running the streets of Karnaca with a sword held in his hand, his head high up. Entitled to a rich life and many friends who envied him, Corvo sought freedom by running away at nights and exploring the cities he named his. Knew every corner, every shadow. Until he stumbled into one which seemed alive, wriggling, its black smokey tentacles pulling at him.

He was sure they called his name. No Abbey sermon could stop his curiousity from winning as he reached out.

Young Corvo touched them cautiously and then ran for his life as winds so loud deafened him and someone’s eyes watched from within the blackness.

That night sleep came all too easily as he clutched at his pillow, eyes wet with tears of fear. His throat dried at the idea of telling anyone about the shadow which was too alive and too dead at the same time. All he could remember was falling asleep and dreaming of the endless and the dark, devouring him as he fell, fell, fell… When he awoke, his hand was graced with a dark tattoo of an unknown symbol. It itched a little, as if he had intently gone to etch ink into his very skin. It should have scared him, but reassurance rested lazily atop his chest and he succumbed into believing that whatever transpired, was a good omen.

Though it was a generous gift of power, it became a source of many inconveniences. Hiding the Mark away from his father, from the Overseers when visiting their sermons, from people in the streets. A collection of gloves appeared in young Corvo’s room, tight ribbons to clasp over his wrist. A fashionable element to hide away his heresy.

Fearing what would happen if the Overseers finally turn up on their doorstep. Found a collection of well-hidden runes, inspected his hand and found the Mark they so earnestly fight against. It would have been Corvo’s fault, smearing heretic dirt all over the Attano name.

Something fell downstairs and Corvo jerked in his bed, pulled out of reminiscing. Piero’s muttering was reaching even his room and Corvo listened intently to the philosopher’s conversation with himself as he pointed out certain landmarks of the maps and why they were important. An audiograph device clicked, announcing that the recording was over.

Corvo rolled on the other side again. There would be much to do ahead, weeks of preparations, gathering workers’ team and marking out their route. Plenty of time to prepare their needs as much as to settle down the unrest in his chest, as the closer they were to the Outsider’s lair mystery, the less safe and unforbidden it seemed.

***

A dozen of days later in Karnaca two mechanical carriages were boarded and with a shrill screech they began their long journey along Serkonos. Corvo sat in the front carriage together with Piero who immediately dug into his journal. Fast and uneven scribbling filled in the pages as he hurried to put down memories of the journey on paper. Corvo watched him for a moment and then let his gaze wander over the interior of the carriage and finally the outside. The magnificent view of Karnaca was disappearing behind its wild tropical forests and rocky dusty mountains.

The city soon became one burning spot on the horizon, its gleaming lights dying out as night and distance consumed them. Corvo leaned back in his seat, feeling drowsiness take over him as he stared at nature through a large square window of the carriage.

And then as if by some force he felt himself plucked from reality and thrown into deep slumber.

When he opened his eyes, he immediately knew where he was. He shook his head and looked around. He was in the carriage, its frame still and slightly tilted, standing at the dead-end of the rails. Corvo sat upon its cushioned seat alone, Piero was gone, so was the luggage. He pushed the door open and slipped outside into the unknown, the Void unfurling around him with winds and blue sky. A giant lone whale was passing by in the distance.

Corvo felt the hair on his nape stand. Something was different this time. He was being watched, closely and carefully.

Though there had always been a feeling of someone present in the Void, perhaps the mysterious Outsider who never showed himself to anyone, if he existed at all. That day, however, Corvo could almost reach out and feel that  _ someone _ whose smirk and smile vibrated the air. There was delight and joy in the wind and if he strained his ears hard enough, he could hear laughter. It ran all over his skin, crawled under it like prickling needles.

And then a feeling, like a tug at his fronts, pulled him to go somewhere. It called for him, teased him and he set out to find it. Blinking up and down the rocky platforms which were nothing but an eerie resemblance of the real world, remnants of horror echoes, those that Corvo chose to ignore for preserving his own sanity. The destroyed frame of his house, scattered books which said nothing or shows only the black dot of Piero’s map. Bits and pieces of railway tracks and overturned luggage.

He Blinked here and there, feeling how the presence toyed with him and drifted away, and he hunted it with skill and mastery, almost catching on its tail. When the laughter became audible, so close, he felt someone brush his shoulders and his back. He nearly missed a jump as he felt it, but managed to scramble himself up to the vast rocky platform where a single body was lying. Breathless, angled like a rag doll, looking thin and pathetic. Corvo stood emotionlessly over it, contemplating the corpse of Piero Joplin at his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being so late and slow with the following chapter! Other projects kept coming in the way and this fic was thrown to background. But now I can give it more proper attention. I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) Your reaction to the first one was very encouraging.
> 
> EDIT: I lowered rating to M for reasons. My apologies <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Awakening hit him with a whiff of cold air in his lungs. The carriage was racing down the rails with a screech so loud, it seemed they hadn’t been used for a while and grew rusty. Corvo blinked away the feeling of the Void clinging to him, rubbed at his eyes and looked around to find Piero soundly asleep in front of him, his head lolling from side to side to the rhythm of the carriage’s moving.

Alive. Breathing, stretching even as he turned to the other side, crooked in an uncomfortable position in the soft seat. His arms were folded on his chest and the seat itself was covered with books and crumpled pieces of paper.

So serene he looked, his day to day fever of imagination soundly pressed back into his dreams. Corvo looked at him for a moment longer, his own muscles tense, and then breathed out, wiped cold sweat off his forehead and brushed away locks of hair falling over his eyes. The scream of the Void was still in his ears, and the world seemed brighter and bluer for it.

And his back tingled still. He remembered a touch, a brush of fingers, so deliberate and intentional to throw him off balance. He wanted to reach out and flick the feeling off his skin, but it was deep in his very skin and he wouldn’t have managed to get there even if he stripped bare.

Instead, he shifted in his seat and leaned back, watching black silhouettes of exotic trees pass by. His body, exhausted by walking in the Void and the journey, left little time for wondering, and soon after Corvo slipped back into sleep, this time dreamless and peaceful.

***

The Outsider’s Inn, a loud name for so tiny an establishment, met the travelers at the end of the carriage tracks. The name’s wonky rusty letters were screwed to a wide plate over the entrance. The building itself, 2 levels up, looked as if someone plucked a building out of Karnaca itself and placed it amidst the exotic trees and flowers of a vast valley beside a rocky mountain.

Corvo looked out of the window before slipping out of his seat to stretch arms which felt rather numb after sitting for so long a time. Piero was already nose deep in a map he was holding, looking around the blooming valley.

The name of the Inn was definitely a nod towards the local legend of the Void god’s birth. It stood as a small mansion at the foot of a tall mountain which loomed over the valley. Tropical trees and flowers were scattered across the dry land, building a beautiful oasis with the smallest water body in the middle.  Corvo checked the area for any undesirables and then, satisfied, led Piero inside the inn.

They were met by a friendly looking man with a bushy mustache and a happy smile. His eyes gleamed hungrily at the visitors. Corvo was quite certain that this man cared little for the money they could bring. Living in such a distant place, he must have been yearning for stories, for news of the Isles and simply a good company, one which Corvo and Piero could at least attempt to provide.

“Ah, welcome, welcome to the Outsider’s Inn. You have a booking, don’t you?” The man walked around his desk to meet the visitors, his arms spread in a welcome. Corvo shook his hand with a small smile.

“We do. For Lord Attano and master Joplin.”

“But of course. Such guests in my little inn, I am humbled by your presence. Let me provide you the keys and some booklets of local beauty and sights if you are willing,” he returned to the desk and scribbled in his book, signing off two bronze keys. He dangled them before Corvo who took them in his hands. Piero eagerly took the leaflets and stepps to the wall to read the many notes, flyers and information posters hung there.

It was only now that Corvo noticed another person present in the inn. The stranger’s gaze pierced him with coldness as they exchanged glances.

“This is my young helper. He worked here with the previous owner. You see, I only bought this establishment some weeks ago. It was such a fair deal, never had a better one in my life! I have a good fortune, earned in the mine management. When I heard the owner was selling the place, I took my chance for retirement here and never regretted it, not once!”

Voice almost dripping with joy and content, the innkeeper laughed heartily. 

“Greetings,” Corvo gave the stranger a small bow which was returned with a curt nod.

“He is not a talkative one,” the innkeeper muttered.

“Does the young man have a name?” Corvo asked, feeling the disadvantage. The innkeeper, paying no attention to the young man Corvo was watching, slapped himself on the forehead.

“How silly of me! I forgot to introduce myself. Sir Ignazio de Luca, no connection to the Duke’s son, at your service. Do call me Ignazio, all these ceremonies are unnecessary and tiresome. I like a good friendly conversation!”

Corvo was about to open his mouth and ask about the young man’s name again, but was interrupted by Ignazio.

“Will you do me the honour of sharing a meal? I hate sitting all by myself, especially when I seem to have interesting visitors who are oh so rare.”

“Of course!” It was Piero who responded, shaking hands with the innkeeper and smiling at him. “We would like it very much. If you don’t mind answering some of my questions, of course.”

And so it was settled. They spent a good few hours outsider, where the workers hired from Karnaca settled a small research camp by the hotel and then helped Piero and Corvo bring their luggage upstairs. Once the work was done, the men left with the carriage, leaving Piero and Corvo to their investigations.

It was leaning towards evening by then, golden hour nigh. Ignazio seated his guests in a small room beside the entrance hall, a table set for dinner. It was only then that Corvo realised how exhausted and hungry he was after all the hard work throughout the day. Infinite mounds and heaps of maps and notebooks, setting up tables, equipment and keeping an eye on the perimeter, should any trouble arise. But the place seemed devoid of any problem, of people who could cause them and frankly, of anything but vibrant peaceful nature.

“Please, sit down,” Ignazio waved at Corvo and Piero, and they followed to join him at the table. The innkeeper generously poured wine in glasses, served food and engaged in small talk, exchanging words with Piero who was already hungrily consuming the dinner.

Corvo found himself sitting next to the strange young man who spoke not a word and only gazed at the visitors oddly, smiling occasionally. In the soft light of a ceiling lamp the young man’s face was shadowed softly, his cheeks deep and highlighting the cheekbones. He had full lips, painted with wine a little, and beautiful eyes. Corvo caught himself staring too late when the man caught his gaze and smiled.

“Have you enjoyed your day out?” he asked, helping himself to a nearest dish. “The views are quite mesmerizing here in this time of year.”

“It was pleasant. A good change after Karnaca’s busy streets and mine dust.”

“So… you have come here to do what, exactly?”

“My friend and I are researching some religious documents. Piero is quite keen on confirming their legitimacy.”

“You don’t have to be coy, Corvo,” the man said suddenly, his voice oddly warm at that, familiarity present in it. Corvo looked up to see a softer smile on the man’s face. It struck him again that he didn’t know his name still. “Anyone who comes here is after the Void’s entrance. Do you believe it is real?”

Corvo hesitated with his answer for a moment, the Mark on his hand reminding him of trips into the Void, of the voice echoing there, of the touch on his back.

“I believe it is a possibility. And if it’s true or not, we hope to learn out with our research.”

The young man hummed as an answer and spoke to Corvo no more.

***

Ignazio, his face red with warmth and wine and laughter, turned out to be a very chatty man, but to a good extent. He easily picked up any conversation, had an endless amount of legends and rumours at his disposal and was a surprisingly informed man for someone who moved to this oasis mere few weeks ago.

“I did my research, much like you did,” he said with a soft tipsy laugh, wagging his finger at Piero. “One can’t own an inn at a legendary place without knowing all about it. What would I tell the tourists?”

“This is admirable dedication,” Piero praised him. “Perhaps, you would want to join in on our research? Your input would be invaluable.”

“Hm, never considered myself any kind of scientist, but I can answer your questions when they arise.”

“Piero, if I may,” the young man spoke suddenly, turning to look at the philosopher. Ignazio seemed to ignore his plea, busying himself with food, while Piero and Corvo turned their attention entirely. “If you do find the entrance to the Void, what do you intend to do next? Is there something you seek there? Or someone?”

Piero looked at him stunned, as if the question never arose. In fact, it may never have come to Piero’s mind indeed and he was now contemplating the reason for seeking the Void’s entrance and what purpose it would serve.

“Ah, it is getting late. You had a busy day, I suggest you retire to sleep and resume your work refreshed and rested,” the innkeeper said, his gaze still sliding right over the young man by Corvo’s side. It was becoming unsettling, and Corvo studied his table neighbour who seemed entirely unperturbed.

“Corvo and I need to discuss our plans for tomorrow, would it be alright if we stayed here with a bottle of this delightful Serkonan wine?”

Ignazio chuckled and agreed.

***

It is when night falls that hearts and minds open, candor becoming one with the air, especially if it has a taste of alcohol in it.

The inn was quiet and soothing with its darkness, and both Corvo and Piero relished in it. The strange young man was standing behind the bar, wiping dirty streaks off the glasses. For the longest time Corvo felt the man’s gaze on him, but did not dare look around. Soon he felt his attention wane with seconds, leaving his nape. Short hair on the back of his head stopped standing and the unpleasant prickling ceased.

He wasn’t yet sure what to make of the strange man. For all Corvo’s skills in reading people, this one remained a mystery. He held himself haughtily, as if he had noble upbringing, but why was he working like a cleaner boy. And why was Ignazio so unaware of him?

Piero stared into nothingness over his glass of wine, swaying a little from right to left while his head was supported by his arm. Corvo played with his small glass where whiskey tumbled in it mere minutes ago, traced the rim of it with his index finger. The glass fell out of his reach and rolled down the table where he managed to catch it from falling.

Piero gave a start and mumbled something incoherent. Corvo looked at him.

“Piero,” he asked heavily, a question lingering on his mind for a long time now. “What Ignazio asked you, what you will do when we find it. Have you already thought about it?”

Piero Joplin certainly was one of the most unusual acquaintances Corvo had stricken in his life. Why such different people would stick together made people question, but it is often things that don’t resurface that explain a bond. For Corvo friendship with Piero began at the Outsider’s shrine, where one stumbled upon another in surprise. They have known each other for a while, Piero being a gifted and famous philosopher and Corvo coming from a famous family. Unwilling to expose each other to the Overseers, they explained in a few words what their reason was to come to the shrine, and thus more secret meetings began. Piero was thrilled to find a person with a connection so close to the Outsider, bearing his very mark. Perhaps, that was the reason their journey was meant to be.

Piero hummed and tipped his glass, drinking the last droplets of wine. He wiped his mouth with a sleeve and gave a deep sigh.

“It’s a one way trip, my friend. Even if we are to find the entrance to the Void, if I am to walk alive out of this journey, then I’m afraid I won’t last long. But at least I will have seen it, the Void, before going,” he patted at his temple, and Corvo sighed. Piero’s hand covered his for a moment. “You on the other hand, my friend, will have all the chances of escape. Should we fall into a trap or you will stay alone after I pass,  _ this _ will help you leave.”

Corvo pressed his lips together and nodded. Sudden awareness struck him and he let his marked hand slide from under Piero’.

“I bid you a good night, Piero.”

With that, he turned around, his gaze meeting with the young man’s for a second, and left for his rooms.

***

Corvo’s dreams were restless and odd. The Void that he walked seemed so much more lively than usual, its matter almost tangible. And the ever present something was watching Corvo eagerly, he could feel its eyes on his back again. It annoyed him because he wished to face the presence and ask what it wanted with him.

“Stop your games and come out in plain view,” Corvo said to the Void. It gave no response, but he felt the creature’s amusement.

Something cold touched his hand and he startled into awakeness.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he hissed, trying to crawl away on his bed, violently wrestling his hand out of hold. The young man’s face was hovering over him, face serious.

“I wanted to see the mark.”

Corvo gaped at him, trying his best to ignore the pounding ache in his head and the ghost of a cold fingers’ touch.

“How do you know about it? And why do you think you can break in a room like this in the middle of a night and touch… me?”

The young man leaned in and Corvo found himself pushing back again, but the man’s interest seemed to be with his hand. He allowed it to be held by the man’s ice cold hands, let him study it in the moonlight. While he stared at the black ink, Corvo stared at the man’s face. Shadowy, soft, almost glowing, his eyes were hungry and his mouth open just slightly and so delightful. Corvo’s cheeks flushed at the thought and he dragged the blanket over his naked chest, hiding his body away.

“I think that’s enough,” he said hoarsely, trying to tug his hand back, but the man persisted. His fingers danced over the mark, and it flared with bright blue, tingling Corvo’s skin. His chest heaved in hitched breathing, and finally the young man met his gaze. For a second he thought he saw black eyes and something familiar in them, but they were clear green and gleaming now, looking nearly into his very soul. He found himself staring back, letting go of his blanket and leaning forward to look closer. The man smiled, and Corvo’s last energy drained from his limbs.

“There is so little you know, Corvo. So much you are yet to learn. But I will be there.”

Corvo woke up with a startle. He looked around wildly, but the room was empty. It was full of sunshine pouring from the window, filled with paradise birds’ singing and chirping. And it would have been easy to write it off to a nightmare, to a strange dream, had there not been a ghost of something ice cold on his lips and even his tongue. He touched his lower lip with a rough finger and felt it so clearly.

Whatever, whoever kissed him in the Void or reality, be it a presence or something else, it was a gentle thing, and he would have lied if he said he didn’t want to feel it again.

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments would be a great encouragement ;)


End file.
